Jack Harkness… or rather, Jayme Hall
by Nia River
Summary: COMPLETE. Post Journey’s End, and many years into the future, Rose is less changed then expected, and yet very much changed at the same time. Watch as she meets up with a familiar face from her past.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Doctor Who verse. The plot however, stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

**Author's Note:** I intend for this to be the first in a series of stories, but knowing me it may be a long time before I write the next one. That said, I _can_ guarantee _this_ story will be updated regularly till completion.

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**Time Agency Headquarters, Earth, 5024**

He stood before this woman knowing he must look desperate but not caring. She on the other hand, was cool and unruffled. Her fathomless black eyes, set under arching brows looked him over in a detached manner, before glancing away dismissively. It was clear she cared little for his plight, but he had to try all the same.

"But ma'am-" he pleaded, voice strained.

"I'm sorry Agent Hall. That information is confidential."

"Confidential? Confidential?!"

"Yes, exactly. And I will thank you to watch your tone," the cool woman said chidingly.

Jayme felt his temperature rise, and clenched his teeth together. Bad enough that they'd betrayed him in this way, but for her to patronise him like this? His director was acting as though his anger was unreasonable. He shook his head. He'd been trying so hard to keep his cool, but this whole situation was just too much. He snapped.

"No!" he cried, jumping to his feet.

He stepped up to the desk, leaning over it to look down on the woman. Her composure cracked a moment, showing mild surprise, before becoming masked once more. Her reaction wasn't unexpected. He'd always been a consummate professional in his work, showing due respect to the chain of command. His decorum, along with his brilliant work and high success rate made him a favourite amongst the higher-ups. Some of the other agents even called him the 'golden boy' because he was so often held up as an example to strive for. And so, understandably, the outright disobedience and aggressive behaviour he was now displaying toward his superior was surprising.

"I beg your pardon agent?"

"I said no, Director Cartwright," he hissed, leaning forward, "N-O. As in no, I won't watch my tone. You stole two damned years of my memories – _two years_ – and you sit there all calm and arrogant and _dare_ to tell me it's confidential."

"Agent…" she said warningly, face stormy, and he deflated.

"Please ma'am," he entreated, switching tactics, "I'm begging here, actually begging. I need to know what I did. Did I do something so terrible? Is that why you did this to me? Just give me something here."

But the woman remained unmoved, "For the last time: that is strictly confidential. Now if that is all Agent Hall, see yourself out."

Jayme stood silent for a long moment before correcting, "Former," and when she looked up questioningly added, "Former Agent Hall."

"I beg you pardon?" she asked, surprise showing through her mask once more.

"I quit," he said, caught between despair, anger and exhilaration, "I was a damn fine agent and everyone knows it. I devoted my life to this agency and this is the thanks I get? I quit."

Then, before she could say anything else, he turned and stormed from the office. As he did so he spared a moment to quirk a morbid smile at Cartwright's old fashioned hinged door – an affectation he'd previously viewed with bemusement. In his current state of fury however, he felt quite appreciative of the device – being able to slam it closed behind him was quite satisfying.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Posted**: 29 August, 2009

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Doctor Who verse. The plot however, stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

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**Jujin's Bar, Sheba, 4915**

An hour later Jayme Hall had taken advantage of the Time Agency issue Vortex Manipulator that he'd yet to return. He'd hopped to a dive bar on a moon called Sheba, roughly a century in the past. There, he had entrenched himself on a stool at the bar, doing his best to drink himself into oblivion. Frustratingly however, Agency upgrades prevented easy intoxication. And so, despite his best efforts, he was only just beginning to feel the edges of tipsy.

It was around this time that Jayme spotted a stranger entering the bar. That in itself was not out of the ordinary. It was a bar after all – people tended to come and go. No, what caught his eye was something about the woman's attire; it seemed more than a little out of place for this time and location. On a hunch he aimed his wrist device at her. After a second, it beeped and his screen displayed a list of anachronistic items on her person, some from the past and some the future.

The results of his scan both confirmed one of Jayme's suspicions and negated the other. On one hand, yes, she was a time traveller. But on the other, given her attire, she was not a Time Agent. No, if she worked for the Agency, she'd have been trained better at blending in.

He relaxed a little. Sooner or later Director Cartwright would send someone to track him down. After all, he was still in possession of Time Agency tech. He'd feared for a moment that they had located him already, but fortunately the scan proved him wrong.

That was good; he certainly wasn't ready to be dragged back yet. In fact, before the odd stranger had appeared, he had been seriously considering hacking into and resetting the tracking and security protocols on his wrist comp so they couldn't find him. It was a task beyond most time agents' skills and one he never would have considered before. But since the Agency had betrayed him, what did it matter anyway? Right?

Shaking off the thought for the moment, he watched over the rim of his drink, observing as the other time traveller wandered into the bar, looking about as if searching for someone. Silently Jayme cursed her for rousing his curiosity. Two minutes ago he was feeling perfectly content with drowning his sorrows, and planning revenge. Now however, he could already feel his buzz fading away.

Damn it, he swore to himself, he wasn't a Time Agent any more. It wasn't his business to police a possibly unauthorised time traveller. Okay, yes she could present a danger to reality if she didn't have some basic training on dos and don'ts, but… he groaned.

That small sound seemed to catch the woman's attention. Her eyes flittered briefly toward him, then away, and then snapped back again. To his surprise they were wide with what appeared to be shock and recognition, whilst her mouth was sounding out a word. It was hard to tell in the dim, smoky light of the bar, but he rather thought it was 'Jack'. He frowned, not recalling ever having used that alias. It was possible that he would meet her under that name in his own personal future. Or maybe… his thoughts began whirring wildly… maybe she had known him in those missing two years.

Deciding immediately that he couldn't pass up a possible lead on his stolen memories, he went to raise a hand to signal her over. Just then however, a weasely looking man with red eyes (part Cronitium, he identified automatically) sidled up to her. From the looks of things, the guy was introducing himself, in between throwing furtive looks this way and that. He watched her nod then attempt to sooth the skittish man, and knew this must be who she was searching for before. She turned her head back his way again, biting her lip, and he deduced that she was torn between approaching him, or leaving with the weasely fellow who was even now heading for the exit. In the end it seemed red eyes' importance and the risk of him bolting was too great, as she followed him out the back door.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Posted**: 3 September, 2009

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from Doctor Who in its many forms. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

**Author's Note**: If you've the time, **PLEASE TAKE MY POLL** on my author's page. I'd really like the feedback. Please note however, that posting partial stories will in no way affect the update rate of my other stories.

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**Alley behind Jujin's Bar, Sheba, 4915**

Jayme sat at the bar for a full five seconds after the woman had disappeared, contemplating the last lingering glance she'd given him as she left, before jumping to his feet to follow. No way was he letting her go that easily. After settling up with the bartender, he swerved between tables and patrons, heading toward the back door. As he exited into a back alley, hushed conversation from the other side of a garbage skip drew his attention, and he quietly snuck closer to listen in.

"-don't know. I think maybe dark eyes and hair. And tall. And he had a hunch back. I-I'm not sure," a whiny voice was rapidly explaining, "It was dark, y'know?"

"S'okay, I understand. It can be hard to tell under those conditions, yeah?" said a female voice soothingly, "Anythin' else Mucket; anythin' at all?"

"Yes- no- maybe. You c-can't tell anyone I told though. Remember you promised," he said sounding scared, "You promised right? Cos I wouldn't of told you at all but my niece Keely – sweet girl – she was there, y'know. And I figure maybe I've gotta obligation. If-If you can do something. But you promise not to tell, right?"

"Absolutely. I promised. I won't tell anybody you told me this."

"Well, it's just he called one of his guards 'Pulla'. And I was thinking, y'know. My brother Beck, Keely's dad, mentioned this supervisor at work called Pulla. And I dunno. It's not a common name, but then maybe I misheard. Maybe the guard was Bulla or Mulla or something. I coulda misheard it, right?"

"Mucket, where's Beck work?"

"Er, in that fancy new factory, called… er-"

"Garret Enterprises," the woman interjected, voice laced with dawning realisation, "They make the ManyMood pills."

"Yeah, that's the one. Listen, I gotta- I gotta go."

"Right, 'course. Thanks for the information Mucket."

"Yeah, yeah. You just- you just put a stop to it, alright?"

"I'll do my best."

Then there was a scuffling sound. Jayme ducked further into the shadows as the weasely man – Mucket – scurried past and back into the pub. Silence reigned in the wake of the other man's disappearance.

"You can come out now," said the woman's voice.

He almost started in surprise, but managed to remain still. Surely she didn't mean him. He'd been perfectly well hidden. She sighed.

"Come on then; out from behind that rubbish bin mister. I know you're there."

So maybe he wasn't as sneaky as he'd previously thought. After considering his options, he made sure his blaster was in easy reach, and stepped into view.

"Hello Jack," the time traveller from the bar said.

He stared at her for a moment, taking in her appearance. She was an oddly pretty woman but not a stunning beauty. Brown hair and eyes, short and curvy, with a wide jaw and full lips. She was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a genuine Garprian silk top, with a worn leather duster over it all. On her belt were three things: a multipurpose weapon, advanced even for his time; an old fashioned cell phone, twenty-first century style; and a miniature blue teddy bear, of all things. She was a conundrum, and she called him Jack, which meant she may know something about his missing years. He pasted on his most beguiling smile.

"Well hello there," he said as charmingly as he knew how.

He watched her bite back a smile and thought maybe he had her. But then she frowned, tilting her head to the side as she inspected him.

"You don't recognise me, do you?" she asked, and continued on before he could decide how to answer, "Which means either you haven't met me yet, or more likely, that you're not my Jack."

He raised an eyebrow at the possessive at he watched a hope he hadn't even realised was there disappear from her eyes.

"Of course you're not my Jack," she said sadly, "He couldn't possibly be here."

"On Sheba?" he asked.

"No – was speakin' of a bit broader 'here' than that," she said in a voice laden with irony.

"Right. The think is though," he began to explain, approaching her slowly, "It's possible I have met you, but don't remember."

Her eyes lit with understanding and he paused. Did she know he'd had his memory wiped? She answered his unspoken question.

"Of course, the Time Agency," she nodded, giving him a sympathetic look, "How long ago'd they take your memories?"

He frowned, "Three days ago," he admitted, tensing, "Do you know something about it?"

She shook her head, "Only what you – or rather someone like you – told me. That you woke up one morning with two years missin', and no one would tell you why. And that after that you…" she paused, tilting her head to the side and her eyes going unfocussed, "Yeah, should be okay for me to tell you. After that you quit the Agency."

He frowned at her in concern, earlier worries about her suitability and training for time travel returning. She really ought not to be blurting out things about him like that. What if he hadn't already left the Time Agency? She could have been risking a paradox.

"Look miss," he said sternly, "I don't know who taught you your time travel rules and regulations, but you can't just go throwing information like that at me unless you're positive I've already lived it. You really don't want to end up facing a paradox because you've told me something I shouldn't know yet."

The woman just stared at him for a moment, looking a tad surprised by the reprimand. Then she snorted and her expression seemed torn between amusement and annoyance.

"Trust me when I say that I know what I'm about," she said, and must have noticed his sceptical expression for she added, "I've been doin' the time travel thing for longer than you've been alive Jack. I know how to tell what will and won't negatively impact time, yeah. I always check first."

This of course merely served to rouse forth a slew of further questions in his mind. How can she be sure she's not just been lucky thus far? What species is she that lives so long or else ages so slowly, since she looks one hundred percent human? She did realise Jack wasn't his name, didn't she? And more interestingly…

"How do you tell? What do you check?" he asked, "That sort of technology is only a dream in my time. When are you from?"

Her eyes became mischievous, and the shadow of a grin hovered over her lips.

"Who said anythin' about tech?" she asked, "Although I do have that sorta thing on my ship, I was speakin' of a more natural method."

"Natural?" he asked.

The woman's brown eyes became considering as she stared at him, and she whispered something under her breath. He thought it sounded like "not my Jack". She shook her head and looked away. When she turned back it was with a wide smile, and his breath caught. He could see the falseness in the expression, but all the same, a smile like that transformed her face from pretty to gorgeous in nothing flat.

"I've gotta go," she said, with false cheer, "Dastardly plot to foil. Must dash."

Then she turned around and began to walk away.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Posted**: 12 September, 2009

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from Doctor Who in its many forms. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

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**Back alleys, Sheba, 4915**

Jack stared for a moment before hurrying to follow. There was something fascinating about this woman, and not only because she might or might not know something about his missing time. As he came level with her, she glanced sidewards at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Plannin' to follow me home? Cos I hafta tell you, Phoebe – that's my ship – was awful peeved with me last time I brought home a pet. Peed all over her helmic regulator, you see."

"Okay, firstly, you referring to your ship like a person – that's so cute," he frowned at the secretive smile she then displayed before continuing, "Second, I'm fully toilet trained, so no problem there. Thirdly though, if you really had your heart set on a game of master and pet, well…" he trailed his gaze over her from head to foot, "I'm game."

To his delight she blushed a little, even as she rolled her eyes.

"Not so different from my Jack," she mumbled.

"Fourthly," he said loudly, stepping in front of her causing them both to halt, "I'm not Jack," he held out a hand and said flirtatiously, "The name's Jayme Hall."

She stared at him blankly for a moment before hesitantly taking his hand.

"Call me Varda. Varda Wolfe."

"Call you?" he asked, picking up the inconsistency, "So that's not your real name then."

Her lip quirked and he rather thought she was impressed.

"No," she admitted, "It's not," then stepped around him and continued on her way.

He sighed and hurried to follow again as she led them wending down the back alleys.

"So, where we going?"

"We?"

"Yes, we."

"Look Jack- I mean Jayme. I've told you everythin' I can. I don't know anythin' else."

"Maybe."

"Really," she amended firmly and he shrugged.

"Okay."

"So why're you still followin' me?"

He frowned thoughtfully and said honestly, "I don't know."

The woman – Varda – gave an exasperated sigh.

"So," he asked, "What was up with that Macket guy?"

"Mucket," she corrected, and whirled around toward him, "And that is none of your business."

"Hey, calm down," he said, arms raised defensively, "I'm not looking to get in your way. Just thought maybe I could help."

"And why would you do that, Jayme Hall?"

"I guess that's just the sort of guy I am. Why do you think I joined the Time Agency in the first place?"

"Fame, glory, wealth?"

"No!" he objected loudly before reconsidering, "Well, okay, maybe," he admitted and she snorted, "But also because I wanted to make a difference. To help people and keep them safe."

Varda bit her lip as she looked at him for a long moment. He wasn't sure what she decided as she turned away quickly and began walking once more. Again, he followed.

"So then the question is," she asked, "Do you think I'm up to no good and secretly hope to stop me… or, do you think I'm up to stoppin' no good, and actually wanna help."

"Well," he said with a grin, "You did say you were off to 'foil a dastardly plot', so I'm leaning towards the latter."

"Hmm," was all she said, giving him a brief look and a small smile.

Jack grinned as her as she went silent. Not exactly an eager invitation, but she wasn't objecting to him coming along anymore.

"So…" he said leadingly, "What's the deal with Mucket?"

"Not out here. Wait till we get somewhere private. I have a room not far from here," she said, and before he could comment threw him a stern look, "And no, Mr Hall, that wasn't a proposition"

He pouted a little and was rewarded with a quiet laugh. They continued the rest of the way in silence. Soon she led him out of the back alleys and onto the proper streets. They were in a slightly more respectable part of town now – run down but not squalid. A few minutes later they approached a dim looking tavern inn, and entered. Varda lead him through the quiet downstairs bar room, sending a passing nod to the woman behind the counter. They ascended a rickety set of stairs at the back of the room to a shadowy corridor, and she let them both into the third room on the left.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Posted**: 19 September, 2009

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from Doctor Who in its many forms. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

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**Bibi's Inn, Sheba, 4915**

"Okay," Varda said, taking a seat on a chair in the corner, "Tell me what you overheard."

He looked around at the sorry looking room and took a seat on the bed, recalling as he did all that he'd heard of the conversation between Varda and her informant.

"The weasely guy – Mucket – was describing someone to you. Said they were tall with dark hair and eyes and a hunched back, but it was dark so he wasn't sure. He told you that tall and dark had a guard called Pulla, and he thinks there's a supervisor by that name at the factory his brother Beck works at. You said it was called Garret Enterprises, and they made something called ManyMood pills. Mucket said his brother's daughter Keely was 'there', and he sounded hopeful you could do something about whatever you two were talking about."

She nodded, "That sounds right. The thing is there've been these attacks all over Sheba – usually on groups of people at once. These people are perfectly normal to start with, but after, it's like they've fallen into deep depression all of a sudden. They get quiet, lethargic, and don't seem to care about anythin' anymore."

"Wait, after what happens?"

"Eyewitnesses say it's like someone's thrown a flash bomb. But the light's green and everyone near the 'bomb' falls unconscious. When they wake up, they're like zombies. Worse though, is that the victims have been slowly disappearin' sometime after."

"Why haven't the authorities done anything about it?"

She gave him a flat look, "This is Sheba. People don't care much what happens on this moon. That's why it's strange that an upscale business like Garret Enterprises would set up a factory here."

"Right, and you think this Garret Enterprises has something to do with it all?"

"Yes," she nodded eagerly, getting up to pace about, "Think about it. Pulla's a rare name here on this moon and Macket thinks one of the factory supervisors goes by Pulla. Probably the same guy. The factory itself being here is suspicious enough, for the reason I explained, but added to that is the mystery of the ManyMood pills."

"What are they?" he asked, "I've never heard of them before."

"Drugs. The rich and famous on the planet below love 'em. Feelin' down? Take a cheer pill. Havin' trouble keepin' focussed on work? Take a concentrate. Wanna look appropriately heartbroken when your rich husband 'accidentally' falls down the stairs leavin' you the fortune? A sorrow pill's what you need."

"Okay, okay," he said with a smirk, "I get it. They simulate moods in the user."

"Exactly. And the mystery is that no one knows how they work. Garret Enterprises isn't talkin'. The say they don't want their competitors to find out the 'secret formula'. But, shortly after the factory set up, that's when the attacks started. And shortly after the attacks, the ManyMood pills came out. Think about it."

"Sudden outbreak of people drained of emotion, just when emotions in a pill start being sold," his eyes widened with understanding.

"You're gettin' it Mr Hall."

"But that sounds almost like Frestruka technology," he frowned in thought, "And that matches the 'hunchbacked' description. Frestruki have those huge glands on the back of their necks. It'd look like a hump under a coat."

"I think it is them," she nodded, arms waving about as she began to explain, "They drain emotions from one person, store it in a central system – a Fretki Crystal. The drained person becomes a slave drone waitin' to be activated. The Frestruki like to use them for sport, pittin' one against the other in fights to the death. Those'd be the attack victims what have gone missin'."

He nodded in understanding before asking, "But what about the pills?"

"Oh, this is the clever part," she said, pausing her pacing to face him directly, "They siphon half the emotions of each person from the Crystal into pills, since half kept is enough to retain their slaves. The purpose of the pills is wealth, plain and simple. The users become addicted to the sensation and want more and more. The Frestruki make a boatload of cash and get slaves at the same time. Win-win, for them."

"But it's 4915 right now," Jack said, after checking his wrist comp, "The Frestruki have been outlawed from this area of space for the last twenty years."

He looked up at Varda, who was – incongruously – grinning widely.

"Like I said," she told him cheerfully, but with a hint of steel behind her words, "Dastardly plot to foil. So, you in?"

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	6. Chapter 6

**Posted**: 26 September, 2009

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from Doctor Who in its many forms. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

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**Near the Garret Enterprises Factory, Sheba, 4915**

What followed was a whirlwind of action. Varda Wolf it seemed, viewed plans as a lose guideline at best. The plan in this instance had been to get into the Garret Enterprises factory and disable the Fretki Crystal, thereby releasing all the captured emotions to the victims, freeing them from control. In actuality, the whole operation was vastly more complicated, rife with unexpected problems, adrenalin highs and much running for their lives.

As they sprinted from the factory in the wake of the evacuees, Varda grabbed his hand and tugged him leftwards, throwing them both to the ground behind a small hill. There was a loud explosion and a wave of heat, and then sudden silence. The pair clambered to their feet, looking back at the remains of what had been a state of the art factory. He realised their hands were still joined but said nothing, instead looking over at this strange woman he'd met only a few hours earlier. She was watching the burning remains with wide eyes and an even wider grin. She turned to look at him then and he was captivated by the exhilaration in her expression.

"So," he said, attempting to sound casual, "You do this sort of thing often?"

She laughed then, long and loud.

"Y-yeah," she said between huffs of laughter, "You could say it's a hobby."

Eventually they wandered away from the scene, hands swinging between them. As they walked through the streets of the nearby town a thought occurred to him.

"So destroying the crystal freed the emotions," he said in concern, "But what about the parts that were siphoned into pills?"

"Gone," she said simply, "But it'll be okay. Half their spirit back will be enough to kick-start their systems. The rest will heal itself."

He nodded, "So what now?"

"Now?"

"Yeah. Where do you go from here?"

"Now," she said, in a thoughtful tone, "Now I go back to my ship and fly away, lookin' for more adventures in space and time."

"Adventures?"

"Adventures."

"So you actually do this sort of thing all the time? It's really your hobby? That wasn't just a joke?"

"I said so didn't I?" she said, "It's not always so hectic. Sometimes it's quiet and calm; relaxin' on some exotic paradise of a world for a while. I seem to find trouble more often than not though," her expression became wistful as she added, "Someone once said I was jeopardy friendly."

She sighed then and looked at him before withdrawing her hand, to fold her arms across her chest, and he felt a little disappointed. They came to a halt under a shop awning, the grey light of predawn dimly illuminating their surroundings.

"What?" he asked, in response to the hard, judging look she was giving him.

"What will _you_ do now?"

He inhaled and rested his hands on his hips, considering the question.

"I don't know," he shrugged, and decided for some reason to be bluntly honest, "Before I saw you back in Jujin's Bar, I was planning to disable the tracking in this," he held up his vortex manipulator, "And then maybe think up ways to get revenge on the Time Agency. I think I'd make a pretty successful conman."

"And now?" she asked, head tilted to one side and expression neutral.

"And now…" he sighed, "I don't know. After what we did tonight, I guess I remember the important things, like why I became a Time Agent. Doing good and all that. I don't know that I can go through with it."

She nodded, and said, "Good."

"Good?" he asked.

"Yes, good."

"Why good?"

"Well," she paused to take a bracing breath, "'Cause it you'd went through with it then I wouldn't've be able to make you an offer."

"What sort of offer?" he asked, smirking at her and wiggling an eyebrow.

"Not that sort," she rolled her eyes, then looked at him seriously, "Travel with me."

"Travel with you?"

"Yeah. The life I lead… it gets a bit borin' on my own. I sometimes 'ave people tag along, but there's no one at the moment. Not for a while now in fact. So, I could use the company, and you could use somethin' to do – somethin' that won't wear at your conscience."

Silence followed as he considered the proposal. Dither aimlessly, trying to decide what to do now that his life as a Time Agent was over. Or, follow this entrancing woman touring time and space with friendly company, thrilling adventures, rescuing the downtrodden and running for his life. It really wasn't a difficult decision.

..ooOOoo..

**Behind Bibi's Inn, Sheba, 4915**

"It's a dumpster," he said, unimpressed.

"It's camouflaged," she huffed.

"It's small," he observed.

"Wait till you see inside."

. . .

"It's…" he trailed off, awed.

"Please try to say somethin' more original than 'bigger on the inside'."

"… roomy?" then he pouted, "And I was so looking forward to the close quarters."

She snorted. "My heart bleeds for you. Really."

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